Frazzle seemed quite happy to stay in the basket and cooed in alarm when Twitch lifted him out. Repeating the action he’d used to release Squeaker, Twitch launched Frazzle into the air, but the bird flapped his wings twice and flew straight to a tree hanging over the other side of the canal.

  “Go home, Frazzle.” Twitch waved his arms at the bird. “Go on. Shoo. Follow Squeaker.”

  Frazzle just stared at him, goggle-eyed, from his perch in the tree, so Twitch pushed the lock gates shut and crossed the canal. Picking up a stick, he stretched up, but the bird flew off before he could knock it against the branch.

  Frazzle flapped about, zigzagging, then shot off towards Aves Wood.

  “Oh no.” Twitch dropped the stick. This was what he’d dreaded would happen.

  “Why were you poking that bird?” asked a voice, and Twitch saw that the girl with the puffball ponytail and yellow tutu was on the opposite bank of the canal. “That’s mean.”

  “No, no, that’s my bird. I wouldn’t hurt him. He’s my pet. His name’s Frazzle.” Twitch crossed back over the lock gate. “He was meant to fly home, but he didn’t; he flew that way. See, this is his basket.”

  “What are you going to do?” The girl looked at the basket, intrigued.

  “Try and find him, I guess.”

  “One bird in all those trees.” She turned towards the woods. “That’s going to be hard.” And Twitch realized with a sinking feeling that she was right.

  “Are you on holiday?” he asked. “You don’t live around here, or I’d know. I’ve lived in Briddvale all my life.”

  “No, I’m—”

  “Tippi! What have I told you about wandering off?”

  Twitch turned and saw Tippi’s big sister striding towards them.

  “Uh-oh,” Tippi whispered. “Ava’s cross.”

  “She was trying to help me catch my pigeon,” Twitch said.

  Ava shot him a hostile look. “C’mon, Tippi, we’ve got to go.” She held out a hand and Tippi ran to her and took it.

  “Wait!” Twitch put his hand in his pocket, realizing as he did so that he was wearing his jeans, and the silver kingfisher bracelet was in his school trousers. “You were in Aves Wood yesterday…”

  “No, we weren’t.” Ava scowled at him. “We just arrived today. We’re on holiday with our nan.”

  Twitch fell silent, shocked that she’d lied to him. Ava whispered angrily to Tippi as the two girls walked away, telling her off. There was something suspicious about those two.

  Strapping the empty basket to his bike, Twitch turned around, scanning the forest canopy for his dozy-looking pigeon. He cupped his hands around his mouth and made pigeon noises, but nothing moved. He threw his head back and made the warbling whistle he’d sung the previous evening on his roof, and suddenly he caught sight of a bird with the characteristics of Frazzle a way up the canal, swooping clumsily down behind Crowther Bridge. He jumped onto his bike and pedalled as fast as he could, trying to keep the pigeon in sight.

  When he reached the other side of the bridge, there was no sign of the errant pigeon. He continued on to the west gate into Aves Wood. A sign saying bicycles were not allowed was bolted to the gate. He took off the basket and pretended to check his tyres, making sure no one was coming. Opening the gate, he quickly pushed it through, wheeling his bike off the path and onto the track into the woods, hurrying to a pile of sticks and bracken. Glancing over his shoulder, he lifted the biggest stick, bringing up a tapestry of woven ferns. He’d made the secret bike park back in the spring. He laid his bike down on the ground, and let the blanket of ferns fall, hiding it from view.

  The nature reserve was busy. Curious locals had come to gawp and officers in pairs were still patrolling the main paths. Twitch took out his binoculars, searching branch after branch for his renegade squab. Not only was he worried about Frazzle but he was growing increasingly anxious about his hide. He decided to head in that direction as he searched for Frazzle. He tried not to panic about the pigeon. His book had said that birds might not immediately fly home, particularly on their first homing flight.

  As Twitch approached the pond, the knot in his stomach tightened as he prepared himself for the sight of a demolished hide. But when he reached the clearing, there were no signs of anyone having been there. It was exactly as he’d left it. He yanked the coat hanger to open the door and crawled inside.

  Safe in his forest hideout, Twitch took out his jam sandwich and felt a flash of pride as he ate his lunch. The police had combed the woods and not found his hide.

  Once his hunger was sated, he secured the hide and set out again, hunting for Frazzle. He’d covered nearly half the woods without spotting his bird, when he heard a mean laugh and a voice he recognized as Tom Madden’s.

  “… I mean, I want to punch you, so it’s win–win for me.”

  Everyone knew Madden planned on being a professional boxer. He never missed an opportunity to practise on people who annoyed him. Instantly alert, Twitch moved swiftly through the trees, coming to an abrupt halt as he spied Peaky tying Jack to a tree trunk. Madden was dancing about, punching at the air in front of Jack’s face.

  “I’ll find it.” Jack sounded terrified. “We’ve been looking all morning.”

  “Really?” Madden feigned an uppercut. “Where are your friends now? Huh?”

  “They got bored and went home. I need more time,” Jack begged.

  “And I need money,” Madden replied, suddenly pivoting and punching Jack in the stomach.

  Twitch flinched with horror as Jack cried out. He had to do something.

  Dropping to the forest floor, Twitch put down Amita’s basket and searched for missiles. He couldn’t tackle the two boys on his own; they’d make mincemeat of him. He found a stone, but it was too small. The trick he’d used on Jack wouldn’t work here. He considered his options and then grinned. Pulling out his penknife, Twitch cut an armful of ferns and held them between him and the boys as he crept in a crouch around the clearing, stopping beside a wide tree a couple of metres behind the bullies.

  Peaky and Madden were laughing at Jack, who was crying and promising to give them twenty quid from his savings if they’d leave him alone. Slowly rising to his feet, ferns shielding him, Twitch stabbed his penknife into the tree trunk at head height, then dropped back to the ground. He peeped through the ferns to see if his actions had attracted attention, but none of the boys had noticed him.

  Now for phase two, he thought as he moved quickly and quietly, edging around the small clearing until he was behind the tree that Jack was tied to. Finding a dense patch of undergrowth, Twitch lined himself up with the penknife, parted the bracken and lay down on his back, covering himself. He glanced up at the forest canopy and prayed for wood pigeons and a true aim. Drawing in a deep breath, he cupped his hands around his mouth, and as loudly as he could mimicked the dry kak-kak-kak-kak-kak-kak alarm call of a peregrine falcon.

  The noise was eerie. Peaky and Madden’s laughter stopped dead. A cacophony of wing snaps, leaf rustlings and avian cries filled the forest as birds rocketed off their branches in fear.

  “What was that?” Peaky asked, grabbing Madden’s arm. The two boys looked around in a panic.

  “Kak-kak-kak-kak-kak-kak,” Twitch called again.

  While their heads were turned the other way, he sat bolt upright and threw the stone as hard as he could at his penknife. He scored a direct hit, making the blade vibrate noisily.

  Peaky and Madden jumped, suddenly seeing the vibrating blade sticking out of the tree.

  “Someone threw a knife at us!” Peaky yelled.

  “Who’s there?” Madden shouted boldly, spinning around in a circle, but Peaky was already sprinting away through the trees.

  “Run!” Peaky shouted. “It’s Ryan! It’s RYAN!”

  Madden bolted after him, stumbling over Amita’s basket. Twitch chuckled as he watched the bullies run away, but his smile faded when he got to his knees and saw Jack thrashing about in his bonds, terrified. “It’s all right.” Twitch stood up. “It’s only me.” He walked past Jack and pulled his penknife from the trunk of the tree.

  Jack gaped at Twitch in shock. His face was wet with tears and a bubble of snot ballooned out of one of his nostrils. He looked around, confused, as if what he was seeing couldn’t be real. “Why do you keep helping me?” he whispered, distressed.

  “Because you keep needing help,” Twitch replied with a shrug. He pointed to the rope binding Jack to the tree. “Want me to untie you?”

  Jack’s face burned with shame and anger, but he nodded.

  Stepping behind the tree, Twitch saw the knots had been tied very tight and the rope was cutting into Jack’s wrists. “Keep still.” He sliced the cord with his knife and Jack stumbled away from the tree, staring at him suspiciously. “I don’t think Peaky and Madden will want you to look for Ryan’s loot any more,” Twitch said with a wry smile. He put a gentle hand on Jack’s shoulder to indicate he should sit, then sat down cross-legged on the ground in front of him, carefully working the knots around Jack’s wrists apart, until the rope fell to the forest floor. His wrists were bruised where there was bleeding beneath the skin. His swollen fingers resembled purple sausages. In silence, Twitch took Jack’s hands and gently massaged them, like he rubbed his mother’s tired feet, until they began to look more normal.

  “Why are you being nice to me?” Jack asked quietly.

  “Every living thing deserves respect, don’t you think? Even vermin.”

  Jack snatched his hands back, his chin jutting forward. “You calling me vermin?”

  “No.” Twitch shook his head. “I’m talking about Scabby, the pigeon you wanted to kill. Remember him? You said he was vermin.”

  “Why are you talking about that pigeon?” Jack looked bemused.

  “That’s what you reminded me of, when I saw you trapped by those bullies.” He shrugged. “I didn’t leave him, and I couldn’t leave you. They were going to hurt you.” He blinked. “Like you were going to hurt Scabby.”

  “I wouldn’t really have killed that pigeon.” Jack stared at the ground and Twitch knew he was lying. “It was Vernon’s idea.”

  Twitch said nothing.

  “What happened to it? Did it die? It only had one leg. We didn’t do that.”

  “I took him home.”

  “Really? My mum would freak out if I brought a mangy old pigeon home from school.”

  “My mum likes birds, and Scabby’s happy. He’s got a family now.”

  “Family?”

  “Yeah, he’s a dad. He’s got a wife called Maude and two squabs, Frazzle and Squeaker.”

  Jack looked at him as if he’d just said that fairies were real and lived in his back garden. Picking up a twig, Jack scored a figure-of-eight pattern in the dirt. “I’m not like Peaky and Madden, you know.”

  “Aren’t you?” Twitch looked blankly at him. “You pick on me. You were trying to get Vernon to kill Scabby. Why d’you do that?”

  “I just wanted everyone to think I was tough, you know, that I was cool,” Jack muttered.

  “You can’t make people think you’re cool.”

  Jack snorted. “No. You can’t make people think you’re cool.”

  Twitch shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me.”

  “Bet it does.”

  “Nope.”

  “Everyone wants to be liked.”

  “I don’t mind if people don’t like me.”

  “You don’t want friends?” Jack asked disbelievingly.

  “I’ve got friends.” Twitch glanced up into the branches of the tree that Jack had been tied to. “I’m searching for one now as a matter of fact. Frazzle. The dizzy-witted thing doesn’t know north from south.”

  “A bird?” Jack looked amazed.

  “Yeah.”

  “Birds can’t be your friends!”

  “Why not?”

  “Because they’re birds!”

  “Birds make me happy. They’re good company, they help me with school…”

  “Oh, come on!” Jack laughed. “Help you with school?”

  “They do.” Twitch looked at Jack through his fringe. “When teachers explain things, I don’t understand the first time, or the second sometimes, but I keep at it, because when I grow up, I need to work with birds.” He picked at a fern frond. “I’ve got to; it’s the only thing I want to do. Mum says to work with birds I need to be good at science, so when I get home from school, I go over everything we did in class to make sure I understand it. Everything you need to know about anything is written in books. If you don’t understand something, you can look it up.” He stopped, suddenly self-conscious. He’d never talked about this with anyone his own age before and wasn’t sure why he was telling Jack.

  “But you get good grades!” Jack was surprised. “You’re a nerd.”

  “I’ve read every book about birds in Briddvale Library,” he admitted. “Some of them twice.” He leaned back, propping himself on his elbows and staring up into the canopy. “If it wasn’t for the birds, I wouldn’t see the point in trying. Learning about bird habitats and migration helped me with geography. And when I read about how carrier pigeons were used in the world wars, I was learning history.” He smiled. “Listening to the dawn chorus has helped me understand music.”

  “What’s the dawn chorus?”

  Twitch sat up. “Have you never listened to the birds sing in the morning?”

  “No.”

  Twitch stared at Jack’s blank face in astonishment. “But it’s there for you to hear every day. All you have to do is get up early. It’s magic.”

  Jack rubbed his wrists. “You’re weird.”

  “My grandad used to say everyone is weird; they just pretend to be normal.”

  “No, you are legit weird,” Jack said, shaking his head. “Was it you who made that freaky noise that spooked the birds?”

  “I mimicked the alarm call of a peregrine falcon. They prey on wood pigeons, so I figured if anything’d send the birds skywards it’d be a peregrine. See, the birds did you a favour.”

  Jack’s eyebrows lifted and he blinked as he thought about this.

  “The trouble is, I’ve probably scared Frazzle away too.”

  “So, what does this bird friend of yours look like?”

  “He’s a common pigeon that looks like he’s been dragged through a hedge backwards. Oh, and he’s daft.”

  “I thought you said they were rock doves.”

  “They are,” Twitch replied, pleased that he’d remembered.

  “I’ll help you find it,” Jack got to his feet, “as payback.”

  “All right.” Twitch jumped up and went to the spot where he’d left the bird basket, sighing as he saw what was left of the stomped-on wicker remains. If he did find Frazzle, getting him home was going to be tricky.

  Twitch and Jack walked through the woods peering up into the branches of every tree.

  “We could split up,” Jack suggested. “Call each other if we see the pigeon.”

  “You don’t know what Frazzle looks like,” Twitch shook his head. “Anyway, I don’t have a phone.”

  Jack stopped. “You don’t have a phone?”

  “I mean. I have one,” Twitch replied. “Just not on me.”

  “Where is it?”

  “In a drawer, at home. I don’t use it.” He found he was blushing. “There’s no signal in Aves Wood.”

  “Why don’t you use it?”

  “Only person I’d ring is Mum.”

  “Look!” Jack’s eyes lit up as he pointed. “There, is that Frazzle?”

  “That’s a blackbird. Don’t you know the difference between a pigeon and a blackbird?”

  “Sure I do. One’s black and one’s grey.” Jack pointed again. “Look, there. That’s a blackbird.”

  “That’s a crow!”

  “Same thing.”

  “A blackbird is a type of thrush; it has a yellow beak and sings. A crow is larger with a black beak and it caws tunelessly. You might confuse a crow with a rook or a raven, because they’re all from the corvid family, but a blackbird is totally different.”

  Jack stopped walking and stared at him.

  “What?”

  “Corvus, that’s your name. It means ‘crow’, doesn’t it? You just said so. Corvus Featherstone. You’re named after a crow.”

  Twitch felt his skin reddening. “My grandad named me.”

  “After a crow?”

  “Corvus means ‘crow’ or ‘raven’. They were the messengers of Apollo…” Twitch’s voice petered out as he heard how lame he sounded.

  “Oh my goodness!” Jack laughed.

  “What?”

  “You’re this weird, pale, blond vegetarian named after a gnarly black bird that carries messages for gods and pecks out dead people’s eyeballs.”

  “Eyeballs?”

  “I don’t know much about birds, but I’ve seen plenty of zombie movies. And ravens definitely eat corpses.”

  Twitch grabbed Jack’s arm, motioning for him to be silent. Strutting about at the edge of the car park to Aves Wood was a scrawny-looking pigeon.

  Is that Frazzle? Jack mouthed silently and Twitch nodded.

  Reaching into his pocket, Twitch pulled out some birdseed and made quiet chirping noises as he approached the pigeon slowly, scattering the seed in front of him. Seeing the seed, Frazzle marched towards it. As the bird pecked at the food, Twitch relaxed his body, remaining still for a long moment, aware that Jack was watching him. Waiting until the pigeon was close enough, Twitch cupped his hands around Frazzle, pinning his wings to his body with a swift but gentle movement, and picked him up.

  “Frazzle, meet Jack,” Twitch said, turning the bird to face him. A van drove into the car park. It had Horizon News printed on the side. “Reporters now too?” he grumbled. “There are too many people in Aves Wood. They’ll frighten the birds.”

  “People are going crazy about Robber Ryan. My mum thinks we’re all going to be murdered in our sleep. She’s made my dad put all her jewels in our bank safe-deposit box.”

 

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